


Touch My World with Your Fingertips

by Annie D (scaramouche)



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Chirrut POV, Established Relationship, M/M, Missing Scene, Porn, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 05:19:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9420344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D
Summary: Chirrut is there when Baze is in need of relief. Set during the film, after the departure from Eadu.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [特效抚慰](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9583991) by [Annie D (scaramouche)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D), [Seinano](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seinano/pseuds/Seinano)



Chirrut and Baze don’t bother keeping secrets from or lying to each other anymore. There’s just not much point to it, not when they’ve weathered the big lies (like the first time Baze took a contract hit, or the time Chirrut promised to leave Jedha if Baze found safe passage) and, from there, had years to improve their skills in paring down the truth from one another.

So by mutual agreement, big lies are archaic and unnecessary. But there are little lies that they still tell – lies that perhaps don’t really count as lies when they both know exactly what they are.

In the stolen cargo shuttle from Eadu, while the crew is damp and tempers high, Baze says to Chirrut, “I’m fine.” Which is a lie.

Unhappy with this answer, Chirrut taps the heel of staff against Baze’s boot. Baze sighs and adds: “I just want to rest.” Another lie.

The absence of Jedha is an ache so cold that it makes one miss the brutal winters of the city. Chirrut may be the one who’d clung to the Holy City for all these years, but he has his faith, and has carefully realigned his focus from one temple to another (Jyn Erso, legacy and warrior). Baze is not like Chirrut – he still rages over the great wrong done to their home, and only sated some of that in his slaughter of the stormtroopers on Eadu.

Chirrut can sense Baze’s frustration simmering beneath that stoic, familiar façade of his.

“Baze,” Chirrut says.

“No,” Baze replies. “I’m having a nap.”

Chirrut considers his options. For starters, there’s a while yet until they arrive at the Yavin system. Cassian and Kaytoo are up in the cockpit, Bodhi has wrapped himself in a canvas blanket and is trying to sleep, while Jyn is busy brooding over the revelations of the day. Chirrut taps his staff a few times on the bulkhead, and listens closely to the echoes.

“This shuttle is used to carry kyber crystals,” Chirrut says. “Where were they kept?”

There’s a rustle while Jyn sits up. “The primary hold is over there, I think. There’s a hatch leading down.”

Chirrut stands up and follows Jyn over to the hatch. Kyber residue wafts through the opening when it’s opened, making Chirrut inhale sharply. He waves away Jyn’s murmured concern, asking instead that she watch his lightbow for a while. After that, he carefully climbs down into the cargo hold and gauges his surroundings.

It’s colder down here, and the air is unprocessed. Chirrut taps his way across the floor, following the drums of kyber that were once arranged here in neat stacks. This would have been old kyber, taken from far deeper in the mines than any of the Guardians ventured into. Chirrut takes a moment to bow and pay his respects, belated though it may be.

He isn’t surprised at the sound of footsteps descending the ladder, joining him in the hold. Baze closes the hatch behind him, and then jumps the remaining distance to land on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Baze asks.

“Come.” Chirrut opens his hand, beckoning. “Baze.”

Baze doesn’t move, but that’s all right. Chirrut steps up to him instead, and puts his hands on the sides of Baze’s face. Baze isn’t frowning, but there is careful blankness in his expression. Chirrut moves his hands down Baze’s neck, over the armor, and then down his arms. The most useful indicator are Baze’s hands, where Chirrut drags a fingertip carefully across Baze’s knuckles. There’s that tension Chirrut expected, all coiled in and tempered.

“Seriously?” Baze says.

“You followed me, didn’t you?” Chirrut says.

“I always follow you.”

“And I always make it worthwhile.” Chirrut cocks his head thoughtfully. “Don’t I? Of course I do.”

That earns him a chuckle, though it’s more tired than Chirrut would prefer. Chirrut leans in, just close enough that he can feel Baze’s breath on his lips, and hovers there. He hears Baze’s breath quicken, but when Baze moves forward, Chirrut stops him with a solid palm on his chest plate, making Baze grunt in surprise.

“Chirrut,” Baze says.

“Shh.” The chest plate may be functional but it limits a great deal of Chirrut’s access to Baze’s body – his heartbeat, his depth of breathing. Chirrut moves his palm along the armor to its side, where he can curl his fingertips just inside the edges, close to where Baze’s nipples rest inside his jumpsuit. It’s the perfect leverage to cling on to while Chirrut brushes his nose against Baze’s, lips close enough that he can feel Baze’s facial hair.

Baze starts to lean forward again, but Chirrut taps his instep against Baze’s calf, throwing him off-balance. “Chirrut!”

“If you were smart you would’ve taken off the armor already,” Chirrut says.

“I don’t need to.” Baze moves, but Chirrut darts out of the way, and smacks his staff against each hand that attempts to grab him. Baze knows well enough what Chirrut is doing but he keeps trying, grunting with the effort to keep up, until he finally curses and unhooks his cannon, dropping it unceremoniously.

Even then it wouldn’t do to give in so easily. Chirrut backs up, side-steps, slaps Baze’s hands away, until at last Baze gives him his full attention by dropping to the floor and sweeping Chirrut’s staff away from him.

“You’d take a blind man’s staff?” Chirrut says in mock indignation, which turns into a broken-off gasp when Baze grabs the hem of his robe.

A strong yank and then Chirrut is in Baze’s arms, pressed tight against Baze’s body and being kissed breathless. Chirrut reaches up, holding Baze’s shoulders for leverage as he parts his lips and deepens the kiss further. Baze’s groan is one of approval.

Sometimes, it is slow and careful. Sometimes, there is laughter. Yet other times – though rarer – there is this, Baze clawing at his body and plundering Chirrut’s mouth until his jaw aches.

Chirrut manages to pull away to say, “You’re really not going to take it off? Because I might have to retract this offer.”

“Wait.” Baze raises his hands to his chest, unsnapping the various joints efficiently. Chirrut helps him by hauling the neck piece over his head and setting it aside. The rest of the pieces go and then there’s just jumpsuit, which is less annoying and at least follows the shape of Baze’s body more pleasantly.

“Right, here we go.” Chirrut grabs Baze’s braid in one hand and a thick lock of hair in the other, so to hold their faces close together. “Now you may have this. What would you like? My mouth? Or—”

There’s a hand on Chirrut’s waist, and then he’s being spun again. There are well-versed enough in each other, so Chirrut’s hands are immediately up to brace himself as Baze shoves him up against the bulkhead. Baze pets a hand on Chirrut’s lower back once, the touch a request that Chirrut stay there, please.

Chirrut does, though he also reaches down to undo the tie around his waist, loosening it so that his pants drop to his ankles. The drape of his robes may be in the way, but Baze need only push that aside in order to reach the goal between Chirrut’s legs.

Baze needs this. Maybe not the sex, specifically, but the closeness and the relief, and just enough of Chirrut’s taunting that he has something to push against that won’t harm him. Chirrut needs this, too, because very little in the galaxy hurts him more than Baze’s hurts.

So Chirrut parts his legs, and sighs when Baze’s large hand – ungloved, and the fingers damp with lube from their med kit – slides into the crevice between his thighs. Baze pets the skin there for a while, just relishing the way Chirrut feels, and then curls one finger. He’s careful with his probing, right until Chirrut makes an impatient click with his tongue, and then that finger is sliding right on inside, up to the knuckle. Chirrut bears down, taking the one finger and then another, and then starts hitching his hips so to fuck himself onto Baze’s hand.

“Hold me,” Chirrut breathes.

Baze shuffles forward, his chest against Chirrut’s back, so Chirrut is more solidly pressed against the bulkhead, the side of his face mashed against metal. While Baze continues to finger Chirrut open, his other hand moves around Chirrut’s side, bluntly grabbing at his still-clothed waist. Chirrut misses Baze’s touch on his chest and nipples, but he’s soothed by Baze’s rubbing his face against the side of Chirrut’s head, as well as the way he drags his teeth over the shell of Chirrut’s ear.

Occasionally Chirrut thinks that they’d have to tire of this soon, or at least be less quick to launch. They’re not young men, and they’ve had each other every which way as has occurred to them, and some other ways that it hadn’t. Yet here they are, Baze shaking with want and Chirrut’s whole body taut like a lightbow.

“I’m coming in,” Baze says. It’s less a warning and more for the enticement, for the words send a shiver up Chirrut’s spine. Chirrut holds his breath as Baze fits his hands at the juncture under Chirrut’s ass, lifting him at the angle that’s just right for mounting.

Chirrut bears his weight forward while Baze enters him in shallow, and then gradually-deepening, thrusts. As always there’s the initial shock of being opened up by his thickness, and then the secondary shock of all the nerve endings inside him being awakened by the stimulus. At long last there’s the press of Baze’s chest – wiry hairs and all – against his back, though Chirrut can still feel cloth of the jumpsuit on Baze’s arms and legs.

“How are you still wearing the jumpsuit?” Chirrut says.

“Focus, Chirrut.” Baze grinds against him pointedly. “Yes, I shall take you like this.”

The strength Baze uses to lug his cannon everywhere is now used to fuck Chirrut against the bulkhead. It’s slow only at first, for as soon as Baze finds his rhythm he’s working it hard and sharp, each push of his hips driving Chirrut’s breath from his lungs. This is exciting as well; Chirrut may be a little shorter than Baze but he is mostly muscle as well, and it is no mean feat to fuck him up onto his tiptoes.

It is raw, and it is wonderful. Chirrut doesn’t actually know what Baze’s cock looks like – he lost his sight long before they took this step – but he knows its girth and bulbous head from how it feels between his lips. There is excitement in knowing that that’s inside him, that Chirrut is sheathing it and servicing Baze to his pleasure. Chirrut gives in to it, and takes every rattling thrust with shivering contentment.

It moves quickly. A great deal of energy’s been built up between them this past day – they were in the middle of an argument when Jyn and Cassian arrived in the marketplace, and after that everything went haywire – and it now finds an outlet in the meet of their bodies. Baze’s fullness reaching deep inside Chirrut is glorious, but also glorious is way Baze’s cock drags against his opening with each shallow thrust.

It is a good fucking, all things considered. Chirrut claws at the bulkhead uselessly, trying to find something to hold on to as his orgasm approaches, but even that is taken away when Baze tightens his arms around him and turns again.

The world tilts wildly, and then Chirrut is on the floor, shoulders pressed against metal and ass clenching around nothing when Baze slips out. Baze is on it, though – he yanks Chirrut’s pants all the way off before pushing Chirrut’s right leg up against his chest, effectively folding Chirrut open before guiding his dick back inside.

“Be still,” Baze says.

“Trying!” Chirrut snaps. He stops flailing when he manages to hook his other ankle on Baze’s shoulder, and braces his hands on the floor beneath him. Baze can’t get as deep this way but the drag inside Chirrut is different, and he can roll his hips with Baze’s thrusts. Chirrut can feel his body tightening again, the pleasure pooling hot and sharp with every push against each other.

“There,” Baze says quietly. Chirrut starts at a touch on his face – Baze’s hand is cupping his cheek gently, and at odd with his movements elsewhere. Baze must be staring at him, and claiming his satisfaction from whatever he sees on Chirrut’s face.

It’s this thought that has Chirrut over the threshold. His breath catches and then he’s coming, spilling all over himself while Baze fucks him through it. Somewhere in there he’d lifted one hand off the floor to grab at Baze’s shoulder, fingernails digging into skin in his desperation for something to hold on to. Baze doesn’t seem to mind.

“You,” Chirrut says, once he can speak again, “could’ve pulled something in my back with this position.”

“You should see my knees,” Baze says.

“I’m blind, Baze.” Chirrut yelp-laughs when Baze grabs his hips and hauls his ass further upward, setting it tight in Baze’s lap. This time at least Chirrut’s free to sling both legs up in the air and over Baze’s shoulders, ankles hooked together behind Baze’s head. “You could’ve just taken my mouth. My knees are fine.”

“Yes, they are.” Baze strokes a shaky, sweaty palm inside the knee closest to his face. “Move with me, Chirrut.”

Chirrut presses his tongue against the side of his mouth thoughtfully, and then shifts his shoulders into a more comfortable spot against the floor. This way there’s just enough leverage for him to rock up when Baze shoves down, and then they’re moving again for Baze’s gratification. With each breath Baze drives harder into Chirrut’s body, chasing his release with absurdly loud smacks of his thighs against Chirrut’s ass.

“Oh,” Chirrut says, when Baze’s thrusts start to grow erratic, “that’s nice. I’m glad I still do it for you. I was worried for a moment there.”

Baze snorts, gasps, and then lets out an almighty groan that signs his release. The sound rolls over Chirrut like a warm blanket, making him hum appreciatively. Relief soon pours through the rest of Baze’s body, too – his grip goes clumsy and his body buckles a little. It’s a good thing Chirrut is a man of decent reflexes, for he pulls himself off Baze’s dick and flips off of him neatly, just in time to hook his arms around Baze before he falls.

“Let’s watch those knees of yours.” Chirrut helps Baze lie down on his back, and then takes a moment to relish Baze’s great, gasping breaths for air. When Baze’s breathing finally steadies, Chirrut leans in and kisses his mouth, his cheeks, his nose, his temple. “I’m sorry for what I said about—”

“It’s fine,” Baze says. “I don’t care anymore.”

“Because there are other things to worry about now?”

“Because we are better when we’re not angry at each other.”

“True.” Chirrut adjusts the folds of his robe around his soon-to-be-sore ass, and then rests his head on Baze’s chest. It is a significant chest that deserves plenty of petting and nuzzling, which Chirrut does now. “It makes the sex pretty good, though.”

Chirrut feels Baze roll his eyes. “And what did you plan to tell the others we were doing, once we climb out of here?”

“We were communing with the kyber,” Chirrut says. “What? They don’t know what Guardians of the Whills do. Let them have something interesting to imagine.”

 


End file.
